


Daevas of Mischief

by Evangale



Series: Tales of Israphel [3]
Category: Aion (Video Game)
Genre: Asmodian, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Genderbending, M/M, Occult, Other, Romance, Spiritual, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evangale/pseuds/Evangale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athame's past and complicated love life are hard enough, causing him unrest between past and new loves.  When he begins to believe that his life is finally in order, he meets an unexpected stranger who puts him once again at the crossroads between love and passion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daevas of Mischief

* * *

  


The sun was setting and Athame was beginning to regret coming out tonight at all. It was always reasonably chilly in Pandaemonium, but this evening's temperatures were beyond what even an Asmodian considered reasonable.  
   
The assassin shivered, the frozen air causing the dark hairs of his mane to stand on end from his neck all the way down to the small of his back. Digging his claws deeper into the pockets of his coat, he stepped off of the teleporter and hurried up the market street ahead of him. At this hour, however, the stalls were closing up. Only a small few remained open in the bitter cold, ran by shugos and those Asmodians who had seen darker days.  
   
Athame had also seen his fair share, but he planned to be inside for the duration of the the evening. His garnet eyes quickly scanned the familiar city scape before he turned down a back alley way into the Crandale District where he wasted no time entering into the all-too-known Apellbine Tavern.  
   
The rush of warm air from the indoors was refreshing. The assassin gave a heavenly sigh, removing his coat and hanging it on the hook by the door before finding his place at the bar ahead. The place was reasonably full though not as full as it would be on the average night. Athame figured that any sensible person would stay home especially if they lived below in Pernon. The air was definitely a lot less frigid on the ground. The Asmodian only pondered for a brief moment, feeling slightly disheartened that he didn't see any familiar faces, before looking to Jeckrow to order his first drink of the night. He couldn't remember the last time he'd really seen much of any of his friends. Not since he'd been with Wakaru. He wondered how much of an influence that man had been in his life-- whether or not he was truly good for him or just another to-be tragic chapter in his life like Noctum or Syncline had been. He started to feel the muscles in his shoulders tense up, ringing a familiar pain in the base of his neck that he'd begun to be accustomed to before doing all that he could to shake it off.  
   
“I think I'll have the usual tonight.” Athame finally spoke up, those red orbs glancing shyly up at the bartender, his boyish cheeks still flushed from the winter cold.  
   
The man didn't say anything, only offering a kind smile to the quiet daeva before mixing and pouring a colorful green drink in a tall martini glass before offering it to him.  
   
Athame returned the smile, though careful not to make too much eye contact as he slid a coin back to the man in exchange. Maybe a few drinks would loosen him up a bit and break this awful cycle. However, that's what he had hoped anyway. At this point, the assassin almost felt invisible like he'd felt when he had lived alone after his return from Elysea. It wasn't a good feeling.  
   
However, the timid Asmodian was anything but invisible. Another from across the bar had their eyes on him since the moment he'd set foot into the tavern. A sharp blue topaz gaze that burned into the scout, eager to meet the other's visage without much luck. Minutes passed, feeling like hours at the miserable sight before they finally approached him, their feet gliding across the floor soundlessly.  
   
The assassin stared down into his drink, swirling the liquid around, not feeling in the mood to drink down the stuff anymore but proceeded to anyway. Tipping the glass forward and swallowing the remaining contents down his throat before setting down the glass and motioning for another. Athame exhaled briefly before sensing that someone else was too close to him for his own comfort. Looking over his shoulder, he'd nearly been startled before turning around.  
   
It was a taller woman. Long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes adorned with glitter and purple shadow. For some reason, she was dressed magnificently in what could only be acceptable in what he thought was Elysean fashion. A long red dress that covered subtle breasts but exposed her stomach and had enough slits in the skirt to show peeks at the the lacy undergarments underneath. However, the assassin's gaze stayed at the woman's hair and the ornate red earcuff with dangled gems like he'd never seen before. Not since he had been to the tradepost in the Eltnen desert years ago.  
   
Immediately, the man thought he had found himself eye to eye with a prostitute. That, or an Elyos. Suddenly, a knot formed in his throat. He wasn't interested in her or her fashion display. He gave her a dismissing look before quickly turning back away from her.  
   
The stranger studied the look they'd received a long moment before a soft smirk broke across their petite mouth. “Why do you always look like there is something on your mind? No matter the situation or the time of day? What's troubling you, love?”  
   
Athame felt his neck tingling where there had been pain before. Looking back at her again, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean _always_? Do I know you?”  
   
The woman frowned, shoulders sinking into her slender frame. “My own savior doesn't remember my name? Not this voice? Nor these eyes?”  
   
“I'm sorry?” The assassin grabbed his second drink from the bar before looking fully at the other in front of him now. He didn't recognize this person and he was certain that they had mistaken him for someone else. It was that or a lame attempt at a pick up. Whatever the case, he couldn't be sure. “I don't think I know you.”  
   
“I see.” The stranger sighed, quiet for a brief moment before brightening up again. “Would you care to sit down and chat for a while? I think that I would like to get to know you better.”  
   
Athame found himself staring at red in her lipstick before looking back into her gaze again. He wasn't opposed to chatting and he certainly didn't see himself striking up a conversation with anybody else. The man shrugged before lifting his glass to take a small sip. “Sure, I guess.”  
   
“Lovely!” She grinned before reaching for his free arm, tugging him along to follow her to one of the tables in the back room.  
   
The assassin hesitated, quickly worrying what that must have looked like-- being dragged away by some obvious harlot into the next room with even fewer eyes to watch them. He'd suddenly felt embarrassed and then even moreso that he'd even conjure up such a situation of the sort in his mind. He didn't even know her name, too afraid to ask if he really did know her. However, just as the anxiety started to build in his chest, his ruminations evaporated just as quickly as they came when the woman prodded at him again.  
   
“So tell me,” She asked, urging him to take a seat before sitting across from him. “What is always on your mind?”  
   
Naturally, Athame didn't understand the question nor did he recognize this person. He just shrugged again, setting his drink down on the table. “I don't know. Lots of things?”  
   
Her smile faded somewhat, staring at the other intently. He was definitely troubled this evening and the other times she'd claim to have seen him but she couldn't place her finger on what that might have been. “There's turbulence in your soul, love. You do not think that the others around you cannot sense it?”  
   
 _Turbulence? In his soul?_ Suddenly, Athame made the realization that maybe this person was some kind of fortune teller or some other kind of seer. If that was the case, he would start to feel relieved of the awkwardness in this situation, overtaken instead by his curiosity. “What... Do you mean? What's wrong with it?”  
   
“You tell me.” She responded sweetly before propping her elbows on the table and clasping her fingers together to rest just under her chin. “I want to help you.”  
   
“Why?” Athame started to feel annoyed, shuffling his feet over the floor uncomfortably. “What do you see that makes you think there's something wrong with my soul?”  
   
“Some people are more sensitive to the spiritual plane than others. As a daeva, you should be familiar with it too, but you're not. That part of you has been locked... For a long time.”  
   
The assassin arched an eyebrow, accepting the answer for now but he still felt skeptical. “But why do you want to help me? _How_ would you be able to help me?”  
   
“I want to repay you, Athame.” She smiled to him softly before withdrawing one of her arms from the table and leaning forward. “I think I know what would be able to help.”  
   
Athame felt chills in his spine. This person seemed to know exactly who he was. He opened his mouth to respond to her before he felt a hand on his nervous knee underneath the table, steadying it until it became still. In return, he gave her a wary gaze. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”  
   
“You really don't remember me?” She frowned, though half heartedly. “The time I saw you last, you looked so broken hearted and conflicted. I haven't been able to remove it from my mind since. There is a cloud of darkness around you, Athame. I'm only trying to offer my assistance to repay debts owed and of course in sheer good will.”  
   
“You didn't answer my question.” The dark haired Asmodian reiterated before shifting away from her occult touch. “What is your name?”  
   
The woman smiled again, leaning forward over the table to further close the distance between them, her gaze fixed on his. “How much does it matter what my name is? That dark presence-- You can't tell me you don't feel it, Athame.”  
   
The assassin cringed, feeling the woman's hand again creeping higher up his thigh. He started to feel weirded out and at this point, violated. He wanted to stand up and walk out but at the same time, his body was hit with a sudden wave of heat, pondering on this stranger's intentions and how they seemed to have inside knowledge about him. He couldn't leave, not just yet. “I do, but... I just want to know. If you can help me, that's great, but what is your name?”  
   
The woman paused, giving the inner-side of his thigh a gentle squeeze before relinquishing him. After a moment, she stood and offered a hand to him. “Come with me to my room and I will explain everything.”  
   
Athame nodded, feeling like the offer too reasonable to turn down. He reached for her hand, helping himself up before following her to the stairs. “Are you a fortune teller?” He asked, finally.  
   
“I have a few gifts... I am mostly a traveler and a performer, dear Athame. But tonight, I would like to be your healer. Does that sound alright to you?”  
   
Athame suddenly felt his nerves calm. A healing session was something he could be comfortable with. It had been forever since his regular sessions with Valtina. They'd become out of touch lately it seemed and they hardly ever saw eachother anymore. Athame still took care of her manor but that was all he had seen of her in recent months. Looking up at the stranger, he felt more eager to receive whatever repayment she seemed to think was owed to him especially to clear his mind. “Yeah, that's fine.”  
   
“Good. Then, I am pleased.” She smiled to him, gently clasping her hand in his as she guided him to one of the doors on the upper level before leading him inside.  
   
Athame's calmed nerves quickly became unrest again when he entered the room. It was a typical inn room, a bed and a washroom however this place looked like it was more than a temporary inhabitance. The linens on the bed were a deep red satin and the walls were also a darker tint of red. Wax candles also littered the shelves along with various vials and bottles of what was sure to be medicines or oils and perfumes. The room, itself smelled of perfume or possibly incense. This wasn't a room for healing. It had another blatant vibe to it that the assassin was not open to. Immediately, he turned back towards the door to see the stranger locking it and safely slipping the key out of sight. He looked at her, dumbfounded and betrayed. “What the hell is this?”  
   
“Relax Have a seat while I prepare my things.” She spoke to him calmly before walking past him to a table against the wall opposite to the bed. It almost looked like some kind of altar.  
   
The dark haired Asmodian watched, warily but curiously before walking over to the bed and sitting down upon it slowly. He ran a claw over the sheets to find that they did feel as silky as they looked, the fabric feeling divine between his finger tips. He looked down at his hand before he'd paused again, looking back up over at the stranger.  
   
The woman seemed to be mixing contents into a bowl before setting aside. She whispered something quitely before striking a match and setting it to a smaller candle on her work table before using the flame to light the wick of the rest of the candles in the room.  
   
Athame's teeth clenched, watching the woman's rituals. It was somewhat reminiscent of his childhood. He remembered his mother doing similar rituals in the house at times, however, she was a priestess. He was beginning to wonder if this stranger was too. He wanted to ask what the purpose for all of this was for, but was hesitant to break her concentration if she was doing something important.  
   
When all the candles were lit, the blonde placed the candle back into a steel candleholder on the work table before working in the bowl again. She grabbed some of the bottles the other Asmodian had seen earlier, mixing their contents into the bowl before setting it aside once more and turning back to him. Quietly, she moved to the bed before sitting down beside him and smiled. “Are you comfortable with this?”  
   
“Well, that would depend...” Athame hesitated at the question, not really sure what to expect. “You still haven't told me your name.”  
   
Her smile began to fade again. “There is a lot in a name, Athame. What would you do if I told you? How would that change how you feel?”  
   
The assassin's impatience was getting the better of him. He sighed audibly, annoyed, before looking away. “I won't go anywhere, I promise. I just want to know. I don't remember you.”  
   
“No?” The woman grew quiet as she studied him before kicking off her heels and climbing onto the bed and over the other man, pushing them back down against the sheets.  
   
Athame breathed a curse, staring at the stranger wide eyed who was now looming over him with growing resolve to get away. He wanted to leave here and go back to Altgard, go back to Wakaru where he knew he was safe. “What the hell are you--”  
   
The other smiled, leaning closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “You still don't remember me? Hmm?”  
   
“Get off.” Athame growled, finally finding the strength to push the other up off of him.  
   
The stranger backed off, stumbling a moment until she regained her balance. She breathed a sigh, straightening her dress before looking back at the man on the bed. “You're no fun, assassin. I suppose it isn't an evening for games. My name is Asceriel. You do remember that name, don't you?”  
   
Athame's eyes were wide, examining the other before the realization dawned on him. “...Asceriel? From Halabana? The Lepharist facility 'Asceriel'?”  
   
“Well, not from there, but you did rescue me from there. Do you remember now?” The stranger smiled sweetly.  
   
“But I thought you were a...” Athame stared for a moment longer, his gaze dropping lower before he made a second realization. “You are a man.”  
   
The stranger's smile became more forced, watching the other's eyes shamelessly scan over her own body. “I would like to think that I'm both and neither. Where the spiritual is concerned, it's not so much relevant anymore, is it?”  
   
Athame wasn't sure what to think. He'd only met Asceriel a couple of times in the past. He could agree that he was never in the right place of mind at either occasion but he always got a strange vibe from the other Asmodian. He was beginning to realize why. “What are you planning to do with me?”  
   
The forced smile now was fading in it's entirety. The blonde sank back down on the bed next to the assassin again though with greater distance between them now than before. “Nothing if you refuse it, Athame. I have no hidden intentions. I only want to help you. I owe you and Ron my life. When I saw you in the tavern below, I didn't think that the situation could be more perfect. I have many services, Athame. None of which are what you seem to think.”  
   
The assassin wet his nervous lips, his garnet eyes looking over the other _man_ before looking away again. His face started to feel hot, probably flushed from embarrassment or the alcohol, he couldn't tell. “Asceriel... You said there was something wrong with my soul. I don't know what that means.”  
   
“Suffering.” The healer responded back quietly. “You have had to endure much suffering in the recent months in your life. Possibly years. I don't know your story, assassin.”  
   
“Suffering...?” Athame couldn't deny that. He began to stare more intently at the floor, finding the red ornate floor rug a nice place to let his eyes wander before digging a nervous boot into it. “You can just tell by looking at me?”  
   
“Somewhat. Everyone has their own twists and knots, Athame. Some more than others, but not everyone is willing to heal. Some can help themselves, others can't be helped. Yours is such a case, but I owed it to you to try.”  
   
“What do you mean?” The dark haired Asmodian looked back at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Like I can't be helped? What does that mean?”  
   
“Have you come to a crossroad recently, Athame?” Asceriel looked back at the other intently, waiting for an answer.  
   
“Maybe, I don't know.” Athame felt his resolve breaking, his gaze falling back to the floor from the intensity of the other's eyes on him. “It always feels that way.”  
   
“I see. You have lost sight of yourself in the dark that surrounds you. Is it that you feel like you don't know yourself? Or that you don't know what you want?”  
   
“I don't know.” Came the reply again. The assassin only dug his foot deeper into the carpet.  
   
Asceriel watched him. He watched the anxiety and the timid movements of the other man before looking away from him to give the other's nerves a break. “It's a lonely kind of suffering, but it can be resolved. You won't be happy with yourself or anyone else until you face it, Athame. It's there and it is very real and it is a battle that may be long and hard but I feel like I can help.”  
   
“Help how?” Athame looked back at him, suddenly desperate to know the answers. “What exactly do you see in me? What exactly are you saying?”  
   
The stranger was quiet, refusing to answer anymore of his questions just yet. “Will you do as I say, Athame? If I tell you that it will help you?”  
   
“Yes...” Athame felt a tugging in his heart looking at the other Asmodian like his earlier intuition had been completely wrong melting now into shame and guilt.  
   
“Will you let me touch you, Athame?” The stranger continued to stare off away from the assassin.  
   
He was hesitant to answer a second time, looking past him at the altar against the far wall. “Yeah.”  
   
Asceriel nodded, strangely quiet before standing again and retrieving the bowl from the work table and walking over to set it on the nightstand instead.  
   
Athame watched him, peeking at the olive toned contents of the bowl curiously before he saw Asceriel standing over him again.  
   
“At any point if you want me to stop, you must let me know.” Asceriel whispered before resting his palms on either of the other man's shoulders.  
   
The scout swallowed hard, still unsure of what to expect in this session. It eased his mind to be familiar with various healing techniques already from his experience but from the looks of the room and Asceriel's demeanor, he had expected it to be very intense or uncomfortable. Which it would be, he wasn't sure.  
   
Athame felt the blonde working his fingertips delicately into his shoulders, immediately relaxing the nerves that never rested. A certain warmth exuded from his hands which he was sure to be magic. He looked up at the stranger, meeting his gaze to find it blank and devoid or perhaps deep in concentration.  
   
Asceriel looked back at him, smoothing his hands down over the assassin's arms and around to the back of his shoulderblades in a circular motion, working his fingers gently into the muscles.  
   
The assassin finally broke his gaze, turning his head down and closing his eyes as the healer worked their way to the back of his neck where tension had been knotting for weeks. He let out a low moan, enjoying the massage until the other man stopped. Curious, he opened his eyes again and looked up at him.  
   
“How long have you been feeling neck pain, Athame?” Asceriel whispered before rubbing over the knot again with his fingertips, intent on loosening the muscles.  
   
“I don't know.” Came the reply, the dark haired Asmodian still staring up at the other's face, suddenly feeling vulnerable at the other's touch.  
   
“Sometimes our emotions and spiritual ailments will manifest into our bodies physically if they're ignored. Can I ask you to remove your shirt and lay down on your stomach, Athame?”  
   
The assassin nodded, hastening to the top few buttons of his shirt before pulling it off of him.  
   
Asceriel watched, his eyes eagerly scanning over the pale blue flesh. He caught a glimpse of what looked like a scar across the center of the scout's chest before he'd laid down and turned over on the bed. He stared thoughtfully before sitting back down onto the bed and resuming to work the other man's neck and shoulders again, kneading his thumbs into the skin.  
   
Athame closed his eyes again. The stranger's hands felt good on his back. It was reminiscent of the backrubs that Noctum gave to him when the two were engaged and living together. The memory made the assassin cringe, burying his face away into the pillows as he tried to push it from his mind.  
   
The blonde frowned, easing off of the other's shoulders before trailing a claw down the other's main, running his fingers through the dark trail of hair to the base of his spine and smoothing back up to his neck again.  
   
The scout whimpered, writhing deeper into sheets with a sudden desire to get away from the thoughts in his mind, intent to push them back into the depths where they belonged.  
   
Asceriel studied him as he reached up to pet him, comforting him as he ran his hand over the back of the other's head and traced his claws through the length of his mane. “So much shame and guilt, assassin.”  
   
It was true, he didn't deny it. Athame became still on the bed again, the healer's voice breaking through his torrential thoughts again.  
   
The stranger paused, looking over at his work before leaning down, grazing his lips just barely over the skin on the nape of the assassin's neck.  
   
Athame buried his face deeper into the pillows before his eyes became suddenly wide. He was certain that he felt the other man's mouth on his neck and assured when he felt the healer's hot breath pour over him. “Asceriel...?”  
   
The man was silent, lingering there for a moment longer before nestling behind the assassin's ear. “Do you have a lover, Athame?”  
   
“..Yeah, I do. Why?” Athame felt his chest tensing up again, suspicious of why he was suddenly being asked this question.  
   
“ _I am surprised. You haven't been well taken care of._ ”  
   
Athame's eyes narrowed, unsure of what the other man was trying to imply. Was he insulting Wakaru or was he insulting him? Either the case, he didn't like it. “What is that supposed to mean?”  
   
“A lover is supposed to know your body and take care of not only your physical and emotional needs, but your spiritual as well. Would you agree, assassin?”  
   
“ _I guess._ ” Athame muttered lowly, still apprehensive of the other man.  
   
“Tell me, Athame. Do you find yourself constantly searching for other lovers outside of your relationship? I don't mean this personally.”  
   
The scout's teeth clenched in protest. It felt personal, but he couldn't deny that either. “What does it matter?”  
   
“Just curious, Athame.” The stranger whispered before placing a light peck just behind the other daeva's ear. “A restless heart and mind will do that to you. It will drive you mad.”  
   
Athame hesitated, trying to pull away only to be stilled again by the other man's strength. “I can't do this, Asceriel. I'm sorry.”  
   
“ _Don't be_ ,” Asceriel breathed before leaving a trail of kisses back to the base of the scouts neck and finally pulling away from him.  
   
The assassin felt a wave of heat wash over him before he finally pulled away. It left him feeling nervous and unsettled. He turned over before lifting himself to sit up. “I came up here because you said you would heal me, not sleep with me. I'm not... I'm not interested in that.”  
   
“It is a different kind of healing, Athame. I understand your inhibitions and I wouldn't want to coerce you into something you do not want. There are other treatments I could administer, but I couldn't do much in a single session. Perhaps over the course of weeks or months you might see some improvement.”  
   
“I'm not... I can't.” Athame hesitated again, watching the other daeva warily. “Thanks, but I don't want to get into anymore trouble. I don't need it.”  
   
Asceriel nodded, sitting quietly as the assassin pulled himself together and picked up his discarded shirt from the floor. “If and when you think of yourself again, please come and visit me here.”  
   
“Yeah, sure.” Athame only looked back at him briefly before slipping back into his shirt and made his way to the door, grasping the handle and turning it only to remember that it had been locked.  
  
“Oh, right.” Asceriel chuckled nervously, hopping up before rushing to the door and drawing out the key to unlock it before opening the door and holding it for the assassin. “Please do take care of yourself, Athame. And do see me again if you change your mind.”  
   
“Yeah..” The scout shuffled uncomfortably, fastening the last buttons of his shirt and straightening his collar before departing. His heart remained conflicted without any intention of returning, but that was highly subject to change. After he'd made it down the stairs and into the main lobby, a few had exchanged him odd looks. Great. The last thing he needed was for word of mouth to spread that he was having another affair. Athame breathed a curse, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door and leaving back into the cold again as his previous thoughts and memories revived themselves again.  
   
Nothing could have possibly made his evening worse.


End file.
